


Bleed

by Kayzo



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Misha, Character Bleed, M/M, Porn, Season/Series 06, Top Dean, Top Jensen Ackles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayzo/pseuds/Kayzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They fall together in waves of need and desperation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleed

They’re on each other before the door’s even closed. A crash of desperation and need finally given outlet in a burst of passion. There’s nothing refined about it, this clash of teeth and tongue, rough bite and hard sucks intended to mark, to defile. Cas keeps pushing forward, a relentless wave of want, demanding more _now_. Dean’s lacking all his usual finesse, rough as he drags Cas forward by the lapels while trying to yank the  coat off in the same motion. Cas overcompensates for the push on his coat and they topple onto the futon. Their lips separate for an instant and it’s as if even that moment is too much. Some intelligible sound of need manifests in the air between then, and Dean doesn’t know who makes it, but he knows when it ends because his lips are on Cas’s again.

Dean fights with the trench coat again, trying to take it and the suit jacket off, but Cas won’t move his hands from where they grip Dean’s sides for the two seconds it would take. Dean huffs into the hot, inviting mouth in front of him and give one good pull that tears Cas’s hands away, ending with both jacket and coat tangled behind him, awkwardly trapping his arms against his back.

“ _Dean_ ” Cas growls like the world is at fault, that he can’t touch Dean right this _instant_ , and it’s _killing_ him. Heat shoots to Dean’s groin and a curse falls from his lips, because he wants Cas touching him as much as Cas wants to. Cas struggles with his cloth bonds, doing nothing more than complicating his current prison, sounds of directionless anger falling from his mouth.

Dean shushes him like a child, trying to calm them both even though he knows it’s useless, there’s too much want, need, now, now, _now_ running between them to take it slow like they should, for Dean to lay Cas out and worship his body, learning what makes him shiver and moan. But they can’t. Dean has half formed thoughts about next time that he crushes ruthlessly; there will be no ‘next time’.

Dean sits up, hands fumbling with the coat and jacket. Cas buries his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, fighting the urge to fidget with licks and nips to Dean’s throat. Right as the material starts to fall to the floor, finally untangles, Cas’s arms whip around, circling Dean’s shoulders and pushing him back down on the futon.

They’re still for a moment. Just the sound of their breathing filling the cramped space. Then Cas shudders and it’s as if a switch is flipped. There’s a flurry of movement, Cas leans up and yanks Dean’s shirt over his head, throwing it carelessly to the ground. Dean goes for Cas’s tie, slipping it off in a rush and discarding it. Cas’s hands go to Dean’s belt, hands trying to move too fast to actually be useful. Dean tugs Cas’s dress shirt from his slacks and makes an aborted move to pull it over Cas’s head before just ripping the two sides apart, threads snapping and buttons flying, their landings adding to the symphony of noise the two make. He watches the two shirt sides flutter down to hang off Cas’s frame and Dean sees the white go ashen in his mind’s eye, arching over a still, too still, Cas.

Dean surges up, catching Cas’s lips in a fierce, possessive kiss, and flipping them, Cas bouncing once on the sorry excuse for a cushion before settling. Cas reaches for him almost immediately, but Dean catches both wrists in one of his hands and forces them over his head. Cas whines pitifully, arching his back, trying to reach any part of Dean, but Dean ignores it, hovering about Cas and letting his eyes roam, jumping from place to place as he tries to sear this into his mind because this is it, this is the last ti—Dean cuts off the half formed thought, drowning out his mind with his senses.

He rushes forward, hand not holding Cas’s wrists running up his sides with the intent to own, mouth licking a long line down Cas’s neck tasting salt and feeling the flutter of Cas’s pulse against his tongue. Dean bites and sucks on Cas’s collar bone, wanting to mark the angel, have everyone in the whole goddamn world know that Cas is his and _they_ _can’t have him._

Cas keens and arches into it, reaching for Dean in any way that he can. Dean smirks into warm skin, knowing how much Cas needs this, needs him. He lets his mouth close around a nipple, rolling the nub between teeth and tongue. Cas throws a leg around Dean’s hips, pushing his erection against Dean’s stomach as he fights for breath in short bursts, arms pulling at Dean’s hand but with no real intent to escape, focus on the roll of his hips.

“ _Dean, Dean, Dean,”_ the name sounds like a benediction wrapped in a curse and it makes Dean’s own erection strain against his jeans. Dean thrusts down against Cas hips, getting a choked sound of pleasure in return. Dean lets his free hand skim down Cas’s skin, delighting in the jump of muscle as he makes his way to Cas’s belt. He undoes it one handedly around the rhythm of their hips and then goes on to the pants fastenings. Reluctantly, Dean pulls away, letting go of Cas’s wrists and disentangling himself from Cas’s legs. Cas sits up on his elbows, looking at Dean with lust hazed eyes and yeah, Dean needs these pants off now.

He pulls down Cas’s slacks and underwear with a few good tugs before sliding to his knees, catching Cas’s foot in his hand and pulling off shoes and socks, repeating the process on the other foot, and taking the slacks and underwear the rest of the way off, leaving Cas in the broken remains of his dress shirt.

Cas’s legs fall open and he displays himself in a way that only those who have never known shame truly can. Dean must spend too much time drinking in the sight, because Cas leans forward until gravity is taking him down off the bed and on to Dean, throwing him on his back. It’s uncomfortable and Dean hits his head, but then he’s covered by Cas’s inviting heat and he can’t seem to care.

Cas is kissing him with the same fervor as before, letting his hands roam Dean’s chest as he makes his way to Dean’s belt buckle. This time his hands work in his favor and it comes undone and Cas is pulling down Dean’s jeans and underwear just enough for his erection to spring free. He slots their hips together, their pre-come mixing to create long, slick glides of skin-on-skin.

“ _Cas_ ” tears free from Dean’s throat, hands flying to Cas’s ass, pulling him closer and thrusting up into the arch of Cas’s hipbone.  He mouths just behind Cas’s left ear dropping curses and praise into the soft skin there. Cas writhes and mewls. Fuck, Dean could come just like this, rutting against Cas on the floor like a horny teenager.

And that’s when Cas wretches away from him, chest heaving, arms and legs shaky as he hold himself above Dean. The sides of his ruined shirt just brush against Dean’s sides, a fleeting point of pleasure before fluttering away and there’s an analogy there, somewhere but Cas says ‘Dean’  in a ruined voice and Dean’s nodding.

“I-I need…”

“Fuck, Cas” Dean’s fingers seem too slow as he reaches into his jeans pocket to pull out the lube. And it’s not because he’s a slut, it’s because they knew what whatever ended up happening today they’d be here, together, unable to get enough, knowing it will never be enough because this is the end. Fuck, if they’d just had one more season…

“ _Dean_ ” Cas wretches him from his thoughts, dangerous as they are. He slicks to fingers and pushes one into Cas. So fucking tight.

“Tight, Cas” Dean gets out and Cas’s head falls forward as if his neck has decided holding it up was too arduous a task, and nods best he can. Dean works the finger in, adding another quickly, too quickly, and Cas hisses, but he’s already pushing back on it, too impatient to care.  A third joins the others and Cas fucks himself back on the fingers, Dean’s mesmerized as he watches them disappear into the tight little angel before him.

Cas lets out a whine from deep in his throat “Dean, _Dean_ , now” Dean curses under his breath. Cas isn’t ready enough, but he’s pulling his fingers out and slicking his dick. His hands grip Cas’s hips as Cas reaches between them, guiding Dean to his hole. When Cas sinks down on him, head thrown back and long moan leaving his throat, it takes all of Dean’s will power not to thrust up into that heat.

“Cas, shit, so good,” Cas nods disjointedly, letting himself adjust for but a moment before setting a hard, punishing pace. Dean can see a flash of hurt marring the pleasure soaked state of his eyes, but how much is from the physical and how much is from emotional hurts, he does not know. Cas may be in charge, but he’s helpless to stop the movements of his hips and Dean gets the analogy, fuck does he ever.

“Shh, Cas,” Dean says, though Cas hasn’t said anything apart from the unintentional sounds torn from his throat, “It’s gonna be okay.” It’s bull, they both know it, but it opens the flood gates. Cas starts to shake, his hips jerk unsteadily, and when Dean looks up he can see unshed tears in those gorgeous blue eyes.

Dean sits up and pulls Cas’s upper body to him, wrapping him up in strong arms. Cas clings back as if he’s afraid that _Dean_ will be the one to fly out of existence. Dean feels wetness against his shoulder where Cas hides his face.  Murmuring meaningless nothings, Dean smoothes down Cas’s wild hair and kisses endearments into his skin. The rush from before the desperate need for one another nownow _now_ reaches its climax here, when all that fierce needy passion drains away, leaving two men who want nothing more than to forget what’s happening to them, even though they never really can.

“I don’t want to go, not like _this_.” It’s muffed against his skin, but Dean hears it clearly, the venom in the last word usually reserved for the devil himself.

“I know, Cas, I know.”

“It’s not _fair_! Not right. I’d _never_ —you know that, Dean!”

Dean holds tighter, “I know.”

Dean hears his voice go hard and he fights to soften it. It’s not Cas he’s mad at, never Cas.

Dean reaches for the bed, dragging down the blanket from it on to the floor behind Cas and lays them both on it, still connected as they are. Dean leans back just enough to see Cas’s face, tear streaked cheeks, swollen lips, flushed cheeks, messy hair, and those bright blue eyes—brighter now, rimmed in red—that he fell in love with.

“I love you.” Dean places a chaste kiss on Cas’s eyelids, he chases the tears with his tongue, kisses Cas’s forehead and finally his lips, “love you, love you.” He mumbles between ever kiss to Cas’s face, moving to his jaw. He slowly starts to rock his hips.

Cas chokes out a sob, so, so happy to hear this, hear Dean saying it, but knowing in his heart that that means that this is it, that there’s really nothing they can do, this is the end. He calls Dean’s name like it will save him, like there’s something still that he can do because he’s Dean Winchester, even though they know the final word has already been written, black ink scaring white paper and sealing his fate. Cas pushes back into the slow press of bodies like it’s his only comfort.

“Why does this feel like a goodbye?” he chokes out and it breaks Dean’s heart.

“No, no, shh, Baby, I’ll never say goodbye, can’t imagine life without you. Don’t want to.”

“ _Jen_ …” It’s pitiful, a cry that calls out, not only to the man that’s about to lose his angel, but the man who’s about to lose his love, so full of hopelessness and pain as he is.

“Misha,” Jensen whispers against wet skin, his longing almost tangible, “fuck, Mish, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Misha’s tears begin anew, “Jensen.”

Jensen jerks forward and Misha keens, tightening around him, a sharp pang of physical pleasure cutting through the pain and sorrow when Jensen hits his prostate. Misha’s hands scrape along Jensen’s back, pulling him closer, begging for more, for release from the pain in his chest, if only for a moment.

Misha lets out little shocked sounding ‘ah’s as Jensen hits it dead center, each pulse of pleasure a surprise, an occurrence thought impossible. Jensen quickens his pace, catching Misha’s lips in a fierce kiss, trading their desperation and hopelessness in a single exchange of breath.

Jensen’s hand snakes between them, stroking Misha firmly as he starts to fall apart in Jensen’s arms. Misha shudders once then stills, tensing all over before coming with a wordless cry. He tightens around Jensen, and Jensen’s coming too, a rush that takes more out of him than he can afford. Slowly, Jensen pulls out of Misha and drags the blanket the rest of the way off the futon, folding the excess over them.

“I don’t _want_ to leave, Jen.” Jensen can see the shiny tracks of tears still on Misha’s cheeks. He sounds so drained, so _hopeless_ that Jensen never wants them to leave the forged safety of his trailer.

“We’re gonna save you.” Jensen kisses Misha’s temple. The both know it’s a lie. Filming just ended and Cas is not ‘saved’. But right here, right now, it’s enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written near the end of season six when rumors were flying (as they always are) about Cas' dying and Misha no longer being part of the cast. Obviously overstated and fake, but it got me thinking about the impact of Cas leaving on the characters and the actors.


End file.
